Smoke...
Smoke...
Fidget in madness
Narrow chimneys hurriedly it past...
From humble kitchens with its errands
Bakes the dough, sustenance of hunger...
In ovens of clay and straw, air strokes the dying coals, she lingers there too...
Master's will have it, bread is served...
Unto plates of rough palms, rough with their toil...
Over a meek shining shilling, in pocket...
She shall hover, through their chimneys...to the sky...
poem by Lama Abbas
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Related quotes
Smoke From Chimneys
Whenever you see
smoke rise up
from chimneys,
you think of her:
Anny Horowitz.
You think of Auschwitz.
1942.
A nine year old Jew.
Whenever you smell
smoke from chimneys
and see it
rise up into blue skies,
you remember her:
Anny with her blue eyes,
at Auschwitz
with her blonde hair
and sad face
dying there.
poem by Terry Collett
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Rough Housin'
Gettin' loose at the corner joint
That's all we had to do
I said baby, when you cross that floor
I sense trouble in the room
And we were rough housin'
Seemed the thing to do
We were rough housin'
Different points of view
Fancy free, lookin' hot and lean
Most any man's desire
I said baby, when you looked my way
You know you set my blood on fire
And we were rough housin'
On account of you
We were rough housin'
We were fightin' fools
Satisfaction guaranteed
That's the kind of man I am
I said baby, won't you pardon me
But I hope you'll understand
'Cause we'll be rough housin'
Seemed the thing to do
We'll be rough housin'
Different points of view
Yeah, we'll be rough housin'
On account of you
We'll be rough housin'
We were fightin' fools
Rough housin', rough housin'
We'll be rough housin'
Rough housin', rough housin', rough housin'
We'll be rough housin'
Rough housin', rough housin', rough housin',
We'll be rough housin'
~Don Barnes/Larry Steele/Donnie Van Zant
song performed by by 38 Special
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Smoke
Look, smoke billows from chimneys of houses,
And factories, coal-engines and wood-ovens;
From cigarettes/ cigars of both spouses,
And exhaust fumes from vehicles, so dense.
What patterns it can form in air that’s still!
A feast to watching eyes that observe it;
And soon the air is full of smokes that kill,
And smokers blow patterns by mere habit.
Yet, few think of the hazards posed by smoke;
Both plants and animals suffer a lot;
In men, it causes cancer, infarct, stroke;
Much deleterious things by smoke is wrought.
Shouldn’t we reduce the smoke levels in air?
Endangering children’s lives is quite unfair.
6-30-2002 by Dr John Celes
poem by John Celes
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Rough God Goes Riding
Oh the mud splattered victims
Have to pay out all along the ancient highway
Torn between half truth and victimisation
Fighting back with counter attacks
Its when that rough God goes riding
When the rough God goes gliding
And then rough God goes riding
Riding on in
I was flabbergasted by the headlines
People in glasshouses throwing stones
Gaping wounds that will never heal
Now theyre moaning like a dog in a manger
Its when that rough God goes riding
And then the rough God goes gliding
Therell be nobody hiding
When that rough God comes riding on in
And its a matter of survival
When youre born with your back against the wall
Wont somebody hand me a bible
Wont you give me that number to call
When that rough God goed riding
And then that rough God goes gliding
Theyll be nobody hiding
When that rough God goes riding on in
Riding on in
When that rough God goed riding
When that rough God goes gliding
Therell be nobody hiding
When that rough God goes riding on in
Riding on in
Therell be no more heroes
Theyll be reduced to zero
When that rough God goes riding
Riding on in
Riding on in
Riding on in
Riding on in
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'll Sleep My Life Away
When dying tomorrow
is no worse than dying today,
I'll sleep my life away;
no hunger unbearable,
no pain so lacerating -
no lie to make up...
no human defamed.
The world shuts down,
the avenues sleep.
The body forgotten,
the heart stops to weep.
With clouds as my roof,
darkness, my covers...
I hover in nothingness
for nothingness is life.
Death is waking up in obscene streets
begging for food that could not satisfy -
for hunger, pain and sorrow meet
under that same old sky.
Death is waking up in misery
and remember you still breathe
the filthy air and you still see
everything obscure;
nowhere to avert to, everyone's averse.
When mirrors are horrible,
no brighter side to look upon...
when dream is but a worn-out lie,
when children's cries linger on
and there are no lullabies
but cars that hover on.
Death is waking up in agony
and remember you still breathe...
weak hands raised up, palms to the heavens
for coins to purchase bread.
Oh the cruel life you have to live,
with filthy water you just but drink -
I'll sleep my life away.
Life to me is when I close my eyes
and everything falls into place.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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Rough Ride
I needed loving, needed a friend
I needed something, that would be there in the end.
On a rough ride to heaven
Want to get inside, what will I do?
On a rough ride to heaven,
I want to get inside to be with you.
I knew youd help me, I knew you could.
You knew I didnt want to be misunderstood.
On a rough ride to heaven
Want to get inside, what will I do?
On a rough ride to heaven,
I want to get inside, to be with you.
Im not asking for an easy passage,
So I hope you understand,
Im not after any special treatment,
But I wouldnt mind a hand.
On a rough ride, on a rough ride,
On a rough ride, on a rough ride,
On a rough ride to heaven,
Want to get inside, what will I do?
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Past skeletons of steal and concrete
Past skeletons of steal and concrete
I came this morning
and saw people small like ants,
between yellow cranes groaning and bended.
Where white smoke poured from round chimneys
and people struggled in the half-light
or glowing in a hell like fire
of iron and metal
lost between ovens cooking glowing,
people where captive and caged
by walls, doors and roofs that surrounded them
and lost in the circles drawn by the city
attracted by work from rural places.
The day was cast over and grey
but still they kept on building
and cement lorries were parked in the road
while workers were clinging to black pipes.
On the other side of the road children laughed
caught by the tinned pleasure pulsating
day and night without end
and beggars waited with stretched out hands.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Not a living thing was to be seen and the cottages that sat huddled close to the ground remained fast shut; the smoke from the chimneys alone still gave a sign of life.
quote by Stijn Streuvels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Little Chimney Sweep - Victorian Times
What is above all these chimneys, I asked the young lad,
The chimney sweep boy replied,
Why Sir, it's the sky which is sometimes so blue,
That when I look up and glance at the view,
Such glory cannot be denied.
What lies in that sky then, I asked the young lad,
The boy gazing up now replied,
Oh Sir, clouds and sunshine, at night moon and stars,
Planets like Jupiter, Saturn and Mars,
What wonders out there can be spied?
Is your work very unbearable, I asked the young lad,
Most times Sir, it is, he replied,
From dawn until dusk, I'm climbing to sweep,
The soot from the chimneys, for my food and my keep,
My Master cannot be defied.
Do you 'welcome' the sky, I asked the young lad,
When I'm climbing, I do, he replied,
It's my friend when it's dark and the way up is hard,
Because sometimes I get burn't and then badly scarred,
There's many a time I have cried.
What then do you wish for, I asked the young lad,
With yearning, he slowly replied,
I would love to be free and fly like the birds,
Way up in the sky, and if I had the words,
Write about how I'd feel like inside.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Smoke
Smoke, it is all smoke
in the throat of eternity. . . .
For centuries, the air was full of witches
Whistling up chimneys
on their spiky brooms
cackling or singing more sweetly than Circe,
as they flew over rooftops
blessing & cursing their
kind.
We banished & burned them
making them smoke in the throat of god;
we declared ourselves
"enlightened."
"The dark age of horrors is past,"
said my mother to me in 1952,
seven years after our people went up in smoke,
leaving a few teeth, a pile of bones.
The smoke curls and beckons.
It is blue & lavender
& green as the undersea world.
It will take us, too.
O let us not go sheepishly
clinging to our nakedness.
But let us go like witches sucked heavenward
by the Goddess' powerful breath
& whistling, whistling, whistling
on our beautiful brooms.
poem by Erica Jong
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On An Ill-Managed House
LET me thy properties explain:
A rotten cabin dropping rain:
Chimneys, with scorn rejecting smoke;
Stools, tables, chairs, and bedsteads broke.
Here elements have lost their uses,
Air ripens not, nor earth produces:
In vain we make poor Sheelah toil,
Fire will not roast, nor water boil.
Through all the valleys, hills, and plains,
The Goddess Want, in triumph reigns:
And her chief officers of state,
Sloth, Dirt, and Theft, around her wait.
poem by Jonathan Swift
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My Rough And Ready Lady
Such a strong woman you are
You play rough and tough
How you are very different
Somehow I can't get enough
My Rough And Ready Lady
You are strong and full of life
How you show me so much
Oddly I never met your type
My Rough And Ready Lady
You speak with much wisdom
Yet you continue on and prove
I feel so happy when near you
I have all to win never to lose
My Rough And Ready Lady
Your strength is overwhelming
Those eyes of deep royal blue
A best friend you are to me
And how I love being with you
My Rough And Ready Lady
poem by Suelynn Walters
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City Nightfall
SMOKE upon smoke; over the stone lips
Of chimneys bleeding, a darker fume descends.
Night, the old nun, in voiceless pity bends
To kiss corruption, so fabulous her pity.
All drowns in night. Even the lazar drowns
In earth at last, and rises up afresh,
Married to dust with an Infanta's flesh—
So night, like earth, receives this poisoned city,
Charging its air with beauty, coasting its lanterns
With mains of darkness, till the leprous clay
Dissolves, and pavements drift away,
And there is only the quiet noise of planets feeding.
And those who chafe here, limed on the iron twigs,
No greater seem than sparrows, all their cries,
Their clockwork and their merchandise,
Frolic of painted dolls. I pass unheeding.
poem by Kenneth Slessor
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Pigeons And The Woman With A Straw Hat
at the bus station
the white pigeons hover
on the morsels of bread
thrown by a brown boy
from a window
a woman with a straw hat
on mini skirt
long legged
short haired
steps out of the bus
carries a red bag
and slips away past the
merry eyes of
men
the boy's mother
closed the window
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rough An Ready
(coverdale/moody)
I take what I want
An I steal anything that I need,
I would do anything
To get my satisfaction guaranteed
cos Im looking for love,
The time has come
Im looking for love,
An I mean to get me some
Im looking for love right now,
An Im rough an ready
All of you woman better
Lift up your skirts an run,
cos I aim to shoot my pistol
An fire like a gatlin gun
cos Im looking for love,
Believe me when I say
Im looking for love,
In the worst kind of way
Im looking for love right now
An Im rough an ready
Rough an ready...
Rough an ready...
I take what I want
An I steal anything that I need,
I would do anything
To get my satisfaction guaranteed
cos Im looking for love,
The time has come
Im looking for love,
An I mean to get me some
Im looking for love right now,
An Im rough an ready
Rough an ready...
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ough''A Phonetic Fantasy
The baker-man was kneading dough
And whistling softly, sweet and lough.
Yet ever and anon he'd cough
As though his head were coming ough!
"My word!" said he," but this is rough:
This flour is simply awful stough!"
He punched and thumped it through and through,
As all good bakers dough!
" I'd sooner drive," said he " a plough
Than be a baker anyhough!"
Thus spake the baker kneading dough;
But don't let on I told you sough!
poem by William Thomas Goodge
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My Painting Uses Only Black And Red
black for the shadows
black for the high rise buildings
black for the horizon
black for the heavy smoke
from factory
chimneys and exhaust
pipes
red for the background
red for dried bloodstains
red for anger
red for a revolution
nothing for what is to be done.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Winter Evening
To-night the very horses springing by
Toss gold from whitened nostrils. In a dream
The streets that narrow to the westward gleam
Like rows of golden palaces; and high
From all the crowded chimneys tower and die
A thousand aureoles. Down in the west
The brimming plains beneath the sunset rest,
One burning sea of gold. Soon, soon shall fly
The glorious vision, and the hours shall feel
A mightier master; soon from height to height,
With silence and the sharp unpitying stars,
Stern creeping frosts, and winds that touch like steel,
Out of the depth beyond the eastern bars,
Glittering and still shall come the awful night.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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To Say
To say is to be destroyed,
I may quarrel but what may be stated?
To detain a man for his romance
Is like saying a quarrelsome action.
There denigrated, we will never continue
With the argument so stern.
The awkward abhorrent chimneys of words
Are blowing their smoke in our direction.
The wind is the fault, an accident will occur
When the windy days elevate meaning.
poem by Naveed Akram
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A Passing Thought
The train
Moved,
And
In no time
We
Were out
In the countryside.
Pink clouds
Dotted the evening sky.
Far out,
Paddy fields.
Smoke
Billowing out
Of the chimneys.
Dim lights
In the cottages
Of sparsely populated
Villages.
Soon its
Twilight,
All is quiet.
Just a few miles
Away from the city,
Which comes to life
At night,
With
Nocturnal activities.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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